The Best Lies
by Bobadoo
Summary: They stopped the Apocalypse, defied the rules with their feelings and now war looms in the distance for Heaven. Every second they are together is dangerous and their enemies are only multiplying. Sequel to The Best Defense.
1. After the End

Holy crap, it has been way too long for this sequel and for that I deeply apologize. You see, I more or less had this thing called deployment to take care of. But now everything's better. Thanks for being so patient! This chapter is written so differently from what I'm used to and I rather like what I've got going. This story is going to be great fun not to mention much longer.

Special thanks to **Ziggymia123**! I couldn't have gotten this off the ground without you!

Without further adieu, sent to you from overseas, the sequel to The Best Defense, The Best Lies!

**Oh, and I do not own Supernatural. If I did, episode one of season seven would have gone differently.**

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><p><strong>The Best Lies<strong>

**Chapter One**

**After the End**

_There were screams on the edge of her nightmare, pouring from the flames as the billowing black smoke did. It was only in a small moment when her senses fully returned to her that she realized they were hers. Her mind drifted back and forth from the excruciating pain in her body to the horrendous images before her. Disturbing, shapeless forms that cackled with glee as they carved into her flesh. She welcomed the fire with open arms when they left, embracing it as a friend for in the end its pain could never amount to theirs._

_She had given up calling for help. No one could save her here. She was destined to suffer this fate alone. Unfortunately she was never truly alone. Always she would hear them, even when they were not around to torture her. Their voices drifted over the abyss, taunting and teasing her. They spoke of home and of her family and friends and of what they were going to do to them when they got out. Images of all she loved burning and dying swept through her mind, destroying any sanctuary she may have had._

_They were coming again. Their voices always grew louder right before a session of torture. They never seemed to do anything different and yet it always felt worse. The pain would never render her unconscious. It was impossible here. Sleep did not exist anymore. There was only pain. _

_Their leader approached her. He called himself Thatch. It was not his blade that she feared the most, it was his voice. The things he spoke of, the capability he had of clawing into her mind pained her every fiber. His images were the most vivid; his stories the darkest. He would often promise to take her with him, if only so she could see everyone die with her helpless to save them._

_He ran the blade along the side of her neck, the steel of it the coldest thing there, so cold it burned as well. Right before he started, he said the same thing as before, his voice hinting at a smile. _

"_You are no longer in Heaven, Castiel," he paused, making a small incision into her shoulder. "Your God cannot save you." And then he plunged the blade into her chest, marking the beginning of it all. Her scream threatened to tear her body to shreds as it escaped her with such ferocious power and yet it was overpowered by the sound of their laughter as they all took part in destroying her body once again._

Mitchell O'Neal, having been woken from his sister's bloodcurdling cries, found Chelsea barricaded in the bathroom. She was pale, shaking and covered in sweat, so much so that her clothes were no longer dry. The mirror was broken and a piece of it was on the floor next to her, covered in her blood. It had been used to slice open her left wrist, which still bled profusely on her lap.

He rushed inside and quickly used a towel to help stop the bleeding. She began to cry into his shoulder, holding onto him for dear life.

"I can't…the pain…the voices…they're everywhere."

"Sssh, Chelsea, it's going to be okay."

"No it's not…no it's not."

The door to the bathroom slowly slid shut, revealing several sigils drawn in her blood.

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><p><strong>2 days later…<strong>

It had been three days since Castiel had last seen Chelsea, three too many as far as he was concerned. As overjoyed as he was to go back home, it was not quite the same. Aside from the obvious changes such as avoiding the Apocalypse and throwing Michael into Hell with Lucifer, there was just something off about Heaven. His brothers and sisters, all of whom he still cared for dearly, did not feel the same or rather he did not feel the same toward them. Certainly he had been the one to change. After all he had practically become human while the other angels continued on with their orders. And that was where the difference came. Castiel knew what to do with his freedom, so to speak. The others did not and teaching them was frustrating to say the least.

He found himself thinking of his human companions often, Chelsea most of course. Castiel wished to see her sooner but he had to be careful. What he was attempting, no, what he was doing went against everything, not that he was a stranger to the realm of disobedience but to fall again now would have repercussions he could not fathom.

Chelsea was sitting on the front porch steps when he arrived. She appeared to be dressed comfortably, her hair unkempt but somehow falling in the right spots. She seemed tense somehow which put Castiel on edge.

"Hello," he said quietly, standing a few feet from her. Chelsea jumped slightly but was smiling when she turned to face him, unlike the Winchesters who preferred to yell at him for his sudden appearances.

"Hey there," she replied, beckoning him to sit by her. Castiel did, keeping focus on her face. She looked as tired as she sounded. There were dark circles under her eyes and the whites of them were more or less red. The entire time they were trying to avoid the Apocalypse she had not looked this worn down. Of course, he was not going to say that to her. No, Dean had told him not to be so straightforward with things. Women did not like that.

"Are you…sleeping okay?"

Chelsea looked at him strangely a moment but then seemed to understand and sighed. "That obvious, huh?"

Castiel thought he may have offended her somehow and worked quickly to fix it. "No…not at all."

Chelsea laughed softly. Normally Castiel rather enjoyed the sound, even a tired one such as this but right now it just made him think he had done something very stupid.

"It's okay. I know I look terrible." She went to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, revealing her bandaged wrist. Castiel grabbed it gently before she could hide it again.

"What happened?"

Chelsea took her wrist back, holding it in her other hand. "Nothing…I just…cut myself on some glass the other day." She turned away and began to stare off into the distance. Castiel did not believe her, not for one moment. He stood then and moved to kneel in front of her, placing both hands on her face and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes turned away, too afraid to look him dead in the eye. He could see the sheer terror behind them and the pain.

"Tell me the truth," he said as gently as possible.

She looked down. "It wasn't exactly a lie." She was quiet for a long time after that but her body was visibly shaking. Castiel wanted to know what could have done this to her, what did do this to her if only so he could kill it.

"I saw it, Cas," she started, speaking very slowly. "I saw Hell."

Castiel froze. For one brief moment he could feel the pain reverberating throughout his body but he pushed it away. It was behind him, gone forever as far as he was concerned. Right now his only focus should be on the woman in front of him. He felt his anger surge as tears lined her eyes. She should have never witnessed what she had. It was the reason why he made the deal in the first place.

He stood suddenly, facing away from her, ashamed. "This is my doing."

"Cas, you could have never known this would happen."

"But it's still my fault, is it not?" He looked up to the sky, searching for answers that he never received. After everything he had done, could he not be given one thing? He gave all and asked for little in return and yet was given nothing. Would God ever answer his pleas?

He heard her step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was light and gentle but felt like a leaded weight, slowly crushing him beneath his guilt. Why did he do this to himself? Why did he do it to her?

"Lucifer is back in Hell. The Apocalypse is over. The world is safe. Let's try not to think about this, Cas, please. Let's try to find some happiness in it." She rested her cheek on his shoulder. The warmth was comforting in a way. However the doubt he sensed in her voice caused him to ignore it. She seemed to be searching for a way to believe her own statement. Strange how they who should have been happy, since they were the only ones who knew what could have been, were instead miserable creatures, tormented more in the time of peace than war.

He moved away from her, despite every ounce of his being saying he should do otherwise. "Perhaps I should go."

"Castiel." It was the first time she had called him that directly. He turned to face her, only to discover how much closer she had gotten. Her hazel eyes looked up at him, on the verge of begging. Something inside of him seemed to fall apart. "Please don't."

Commanded by some unseen force, he stepped forward, leaning down so that their foreheads were touching. Her breath was cool and sweet against his skin, her touch soft. Slowly he could feel his burdens chip away, making him so light he felt that he could float. Only she could have given him such a load; only she could take it away so easily. He did not understand it. Part of him did not want to. He willingly relinquished into her hold.

He wrapped his arms around her small frame, it somehow felt right, and stayed there, content to stand like that with her for all eternity. These emotions that ran through him were exhilarating and terrifying all at once. How he had lived before then was a mystery. Things felt so much clearer now and yet more distorted. If only his brothers and sisters could see.

"How does this work?" she whispered.

"I don't know," he replied. "It may not."

She responded by moving closer to him. When he felt her lips touch his, he immediately gave in. Castiel could not describe the sensation of a kiss, only that since he had done it the first time, he had wanted to again. It was strange how quickly he had given himself wholly to her and her to him. He wondered if it truly would last or if it was only an act of rebellion on their parts, a side effect of what he had done to her. The longer the kiss lasted, the less the thoughts appeared. For now, she was erasing them from his mind.

"The angel's back!"

Castiel stepped back quickly, startled by the young voice that came from behind her. At that, Chelsea began to laugh then she turned around and scooped up the little black haired girl jumping by her legs. Resting the girl on her hip, she looked at him with a familiar gleam in her eyes. He, however, held none. Instead he looked at her, slightly terrified truth be told.

Chelsea laughed again. "Cas, this is Trinity. She's my niece, Mitchell's daughter." The two looked so alike, he would have thought that Trinity was her sister…or daughter.

"Hi Cas." Trinity waved, suddenly appearing shy. "You saved Auntie Chelsea. Thank you." She hugged her close. Chelsea responded by kissing her playfully all over her face, causing the girl to giggle.

"Why don't you go in the backyard and we'll catch up?"

"Okay!" Trinity said as she was put down. The last Castiel saw was a blur of pink heading for the side of the house. Chelsea turned back, her smile slightly smaller but still there. She began to shake her head at him.

"She's six years old, Cas. No one is ever going to believe her."

Castiel relaxed a little. "How does she know?"

Chelsea bit her lip. "She more or less saw your disappearing act the other day. Her room happens to be just above the doorway."

He looked up at the window and then back down at Chelsea. "Oh."

She began to follow her niece. Castiel stayed. It was not his place. He was certainly not a member of a family, not this one. Right now he was risking her and them. She had no idea what was coming but he did. Not all in Heaven were satisfied with how the Apocalypse ended.

Chelsea stopped and turned back. "Are you going to come with?" She held out her hand to him. It was all she needed to do. In an instant every apprehension disappeared. Everything that told him not to was muted. He could not think rationally anymore. It was dangerous but right now he was laughing in the face of it as he took hold of Chelsea's hand and walked with her toward their future, whatever it may be.

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><p><strong>New Orleans, Louisiana<strong>

Brad Schaeffer was not a man to believe in karma. He had grown up never facing the consequences of his actions. His life was so sheltered. Money got rid of everything but when he went too far with his secretary one night, he realized that everything had a consequence and the day had come that he could not simply get rid of it. Chelsea O'Neal had showed him that.

And now she was dead.

He took another shot and tossed the empty glass next to several others on the floor. Brad had no idea how long he had been drinking. It did not matter. The only thing that had mattered to him was gone and worse, he had practically tossed her aside like some worthless object before it happened. Now there would be no forgiveness, no love. She had died hating him and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.

He glanced at the pistol on the armrest next to him.

At least it would not be much longer.

As he put the barrel against his right temple, he looked at the picture across from him on the bookshelf. It was of him and Chelsea on vacation. They looked so happy there on the beach. It was right before he proposed. She was the only one he had wanted. Why had he done that? She probably took on extra hours to distract herself from it all. Maybe she would still be alive if he had not been so stupid.

He was sweating and the gun was shaking. None of it mattered now. He was going to fix it now. He was going to see her again.

Click.

Brad took a deep breath and then he got sick on the floor. He had forgotten the safety. Maybe it was a sign. A little too late in his opinion. He could have used a sign a few months ago.

Making sure the safety was off this time, he replaced the barrel to his head. The trigger was halfway back when it happened.

Something took control of him. That was as simple as he could put it. His body convulsed as though he were going through a seizure and a burning sensation ran the course of his body. He could still see but suddenly all of his movement was out of control. He watched the pistol place itself back down on the armrest and a smile come over his face.

"Now, Brad, there's no need for that."

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><p>Now, I'm not one to beg but...please please please review! I could use to boost! Love ya for reading! See you next time!<p> 


	2. Enter the Complications

Hullo fanfictioners! Thank you for the awesome reviews! You guys are the best! Now, I forgot to tell you something. I switch POVs a bit in this story. When it's from Castiel's POV, he will be referred to as Castiel. When it is from Chelsea's, he is Cas. You'll see in this chapter when I change it.

Things are starting to stir up in my story. I warn you, dark times ahead. Doubt me? Ask **Ziggymia123**. Trust me, she knows.

Here is chapter two!

**I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Dean would not be such a prick!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

**Enter the Complications**

Castiel watched Chelsea interact with her niece for some time. He enjoyed seeing her in such a carefree state. The only times they had been together were filled with tension and uncertainty. To see her in a world free from the grasp of destruction was fascinating. He suspected he could have sat there on the small chair for hours. Only when he noticed the sun setting in the background did he realize he had.

He could hear the sound of a car approaching. The sound eventually ceased and he assumed it parked in the driveway. Trinity instantly jumped off the swing that Chelsea was pushing her in and ran in its direction.

"Daddy's home!"

Castiel watched her leave curiously. He had never really been around children but their innocence has always made him content, as far as he could go before he encountered his new emotions. Trinity had spoken with him every now and then. He would give her straightforward answers and then she would get bored and leave to play with Chelsea again but she would always return.

"What's Heaven like?"

"Where are your wings?"

"Is Mommy up there?"

That one had been considerably difficult to answer. Normally he would have said he did not know. There were many souls in Heaven and he was certainly not aware of all of them. However, Chelsea had a desperate look on her face. He took this as a moment where humans would 'tread carefully,' so to speak. He worded his answer carefully and apparently left the girl satisfied, until she came up with one last question.

"How come Aunt Chelsea gets to kiss you?"

At that point, Chelsea stepped in and dragged the girl off, while he stared blankly at where she once stood with a new, warm sensation in his cheeks. Children were far too curious for their own good, Castiel noted. A quirk they seemed to share with the Winchester brothers.

Chelsea sat next to him, watching where her niece had run off for a moment before speaking.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Castiel replied as though he could actually feign knowledge of the subject that had been hanging over their heads all afternoon. Chelsea was a highly intelligent human and he was not a good liar.

"Cas, don't make me point out the obvious."

Castiel sighed. He had hoped to avoid this but even if Chelsea had not…experienced what she did, deep down he knew she would still ask him. What was he supposed to say? That sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was there again, the pain of them cutting into his flesh as vivid as though they had followed him from the bowels of perdition. That other times their voices would break through the void, causing his speech to stutter and his gaze to search endlessly for them across the space he occupied. They would never appear but somehow he knew they were there. Or that he was an angel of the Lord and he had been a prisoner of the entity whose presence knows nothing of Heaven's light.

No, he could not tell her these things. They were heavy burdens that she did not need to carry, perhaps could not carry. He knew Chelsea was a strong woman, had put up with more things than most humans in her situation but after what happened, he was not certain how much more she could take.

He felt her hand on his shoulder. Turning, Castiel noticed the concerned look on her face. Perhaps he had been quiet far too long. It was never a good sign but of course nothing about their situation was good.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, though he did not know the words, but footsteps coming closer interrupted their silence. He was gone before Chelsea had a chance to stop him.

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><p>Trinity had been put to bed for the night and Mitchell was satisfied with the answers to his questions, however vague they may have been, for the time being. Every day he pried her for information and she knew one day she would have to give him an answer, just not now. It was still all too real in her mind. She had yet to sort everything out. There were times she still believed that she would wake back up in New Orleans.<p>

Chelsea rested her forehead on the bedroom door a moment, taking a deep breath. Things were supposed to be better now, weren't they? The big bad guy was gone, the day was saved, yadda yadda yadda. Why did she have the feeling things were only beginning?

Pushing the door open slowly, Chelsea glanced at her bed, still uncertain about sleep. She had not seen the images as of late but then again, she was never asleep for more than an hour. A shadow was being cast across her sheets, the origin a figure staring out the window at the moon in the distance. She instantly knew it was Cas, which was the only reason why she was not downstairs calling 911 yet. His shoulders were sagging and he gave off an aura of discontent, worry. The room was thick with it.

She crossed the bedroom quickly, standing just to the side of him. The moonlight seemed to emphasize the troubled look on his face. For a while, he acted as though she was not there, just stared off into the distance. She waited. It was the least she could do.

"I…I cannot tell you about…what I experienced," he said slowly, not turning to meet her gaze. "I have caused you enough trouble as it is. To thrust my burdens upon you would be immoral."

Chelsea chose to step forward now, getting Cas to face her. "You're acting as though you're forcing it on me, Cas."

"Am I not? Whatever tortures I faced have tormented you in your dreams without your permission. Everything I've experienced has attacked you when you ought to be safe. How could you possibly want more?" At that, Chelsea had nothing to say so she waited for him to continue. "It just seems that we're not allowed to be at peace. That…fate it conspires against us. Perhaps it is all hopeless."

"Says the angel who defied orders and helped stopped the Apocalypse," Chelsea replied with a slight smile on her face. It did not catch on but he never did smile very often anyway. "Cas, nothing is hopeless unless you let it be."

For one brief moment Cas looked directly into her eyes. There was a darkness in his that sent a chill up her spine. She knew right then and there that the atrocities she had dreamed of were nowhere near what he experienced. And why would they be? An angel in hell, the demons had a field day.

"Perhaps," he replied, turning back to the window. Chelsea sighed inwardly. She reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. He looked at her again, something different and strange in his eyes. They stared at each other a long time, conveying more in that moment than they could have with words. Eventually he gently squeezed back and a small smile crossed her face again.

Behind them Chelsea could hear the flutter of wings, a pause and then a voice. "Castiel."

Chelsea jumped and Cas instantly took a step in front of her. Standing in her room was a nicely dressed woman, her hair blonde and long. She looked at Chelsea in a very strange way, like she was some kind of animal on exhibit. It made her feel very exposed and afraid.

"Rachel," Cas started, trying to get the new angel's attention but she only continued to stare at Chelsea.

"Is this the human you saved, Castiel? The one that is marked?"

"Cas, is she going to kill me?" Chelsea whispered, moving further behind him.

"Rachel, now is not the time. Why have you come?"

The angel seemed to snap out of her stupor and focused her gaze back at Cas. "Raphael…he has asked to see you."

There was a long pause. Cas turned and Chelsea caught a glimpse of his face. She would not say he looked scared but something certainly was not right. "Cas?"

"I have to go," he blurted out. Suddenly she was alone in the room again. Chelsea leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down it, hoping her heart would not beat its way out of her ribcage. It felt like the whole room was spinning. She began to wonder how safe she was now that the Apocalypse was over.

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><p>It had been a couple days since she had last seen Cas and Chelsea was growing concerned. After seeing the look on his face, it was clear to her that Raphael was certainly no one he looked forward to seeing. He was an archangel and from what she had gathered, none of them were too great.<p>

She tried to keep herself busy in order to distract her mind from terrifying thoughts about Cas. In the end he was probably perfectly fine and she was blowing things drastically out of proportion, but deep down she knew something was wrong.

Chelsea was at the kitchen sink doing the dishes by hand instead of using the convenient dishwasher when it happened. There was a loud thud behind her and the sound of breaking glass. She nearly jumped through the ceiling in surprise and was about to yell her niece's name when she realized that the girl was not at home at the moment. Grabbing a knife that was in the water, she spun around quickly. Before her stood Cas, leaning against the doorway, a broken table behind him. He looked like someone had beat the living daylights out of him and was coughing up blood.

"Cas!" Chelsea dropped the knife and ran toward him, putting an arm around his shoulder to help him keep his balance as she guided him to the couch in the living room.

"Heaven," he mumbled. "Raphael…start Apocalypse."

"Cas, I have no idea what you're talking about," Chelsea said as he reclined on the sofa. He seemed to be staring off into space, a troubled look etched on his features. Slowly his eyes began to close. Chelsea kneeled before him and patted his face lightly. "Hey, don't do this to me. Wake up, Cas!"

His eyes flew open again. Cas looked around slowly, seemingly more away of his surroundings.

"Where is he?"

"Where is who, Cas?"

"Raphael." He tried to sit up but appeared to be hit by a wave of dizziness. Chelsea pushed him back down. She did not need him to be any more hurt than he already was.

"Cas, stop moving and tell me what is going on."

He did not talk at first but slowly started to calm down, scanning the room for any signs of anything suspicious. When he appeared satisfied, he spoke.

"Raphael wants to take over Heaven and restart the Apocalypse."

Chelsea felt like she had been slapped in the face. After everything they had done, the Apocalypse could be restarted just like that?

"I…I have to stop him, but I don't know how. He is far too powerful." He began to cough again, getting blood on his shirt. Chelsea began to check him over for anything else, though he tried to stop her. It was nothing to an angel but he was not the one that witnessed someone he cared for practically collapse in his house. He was not the one that stood back and watched someone he cared for die.

"Stay there. I'll be right back." Chelsea ran back into the kitchen, looking for anything and everything that could help him. She grabbed a couple of cloths and some ice, wishing she had a medical bag like she did at the hospital, and began to head back to the living room. Then the phone rang.

She should have ignored it and normally she would but Chelsea happened to glance at the phone; she nearly dropped everything when she saw the number that was calling. It belonged to Brad.

There had not been many things that she did not share with her fiancé. One of the few, however, were details about her family and she was certain that her brother's phone number was not on the list of things he knew.

Given not much time to react, Chelsea picked up the phone and answered.

"How do you have this number?" she demanded.

"Chelsea, oh my God, you're alive. I…I thought you were dead."

"Damn it, Brad, I never gave you this number. How the hell do you have it?"

"I just wanted to talk to your family, I mean we all lost you and…my God I can't believe you're alive."

"Listen to me, Brad!" Chelsea practically shouted, peering around the corner to see if Cas noticed before continuing. "You never call this number again, you hear me? You do, I'm calling the cops."

She slammed the phone down and took a deep breath. Missing her was one thing, practically stalking her family was another. She hoped that would be the last she heard from him but she had a feeling that the phone would ring again soon. Walking out into the living room, she saw Cas give her a funny look. Perhaps he heard a little of it after all.

"Wrong number." She said with the best fake smile she could ever give.

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><p>Review? Pwetty please?<p> 


	3. Safety is a Lie

Hi everyone! Man, am I excited! These chapters are getting more and more thrilling! Whoo! I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and alerted and favorited. I can't keep track of ya'll, you're confusing me!

I'm too excited to hold off for long. Here's chapter three!

**I do not own Supernatural. If I did, we would have seen A LOT more Jo. Jo/Dean 4 life!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

**Safety is a Lie**

The answering machine had been completely filled up…twice. Her phone had long been unplugged from the wall. Mitchell had gotten at least three different numbers blocked but the calls kept coming. One night in frustration, he actually threw the phone against the wall, smashing it to bits. Trinity started to cry and Chelsea took her upstairs, trying to calm her. She kept asking for Cas. Chelsea was on the verge of breaking down and asking for him too.

Mitchell was asking questions more frequently now. It seemed every conversation nowadays started with him reading her the Miranda Warning. He was getting impatient but she could not tell him the truth. He could not get involved with anything she knew, not that he would believe her anyway. She would be kicked out of the house so fast, it would be like she had never been there. Cas could offer a very convincing argument if he was around but he had been gone for a long time and she was not about to trouble him. Things were going wrong where he was. He did not need any added burden. His guilty conscience was heavy enough on him as it was.

Chelsea still did not sleep well. It was not all because of the nightmare. Occasionally she would see images, but they were only memories of the one she had experienced the first time. These did not hurt, did not threaten to drag her away for all eternity. Mostly she did not sleep because she was worried. These phone calls were very unlike Brad and the few she had listened to sounded borderline insane. She had called the cops but they had found no trace of him at his apartment. It was like he vanished overnight.

And after what she had been through, that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

There had not been a phone call that day. That would have been comforting if it were not for the fact that Chelsea had rarely stepped inside. Mitchell was at work, leaving her alone with Trinity. Her niece was playing with a few stuffed animals on the lawn, seeming completely oblivious to everything that had been going on in the household. She was glad for that. There were days Chelsea thought about leaving but she could not motivate herself to do so. She had left her family so many times; she could not do that again.

Chelsea began to stare at the sky. It was chaos in Heaven, borderline war but the clouds would reveal nothing. It had been the same with the Apocalypse. She never would have noticed if it were not for meeting Cas.

She sighed. "What is going on up there?"

The sound of screeching brakes caught her attention. Chelsea looked down to see a white van pulling up to the house. She scrutinized the writing on the side, hoping that she was seeing things but it stayed the same: Channel 4 News. She did not like where this was going.

"Trinity," Chelsea called, stepping off the porch. "Trinity, go inside."

At first, her niece seemed inclined to do otherwise but reluctantly began to move as a reporter stepped out of the vehicle. It was a woman, completely dolled up and in high heels, the kind of reporter that always looked out of place when you saw them on the news. The way she ran across her lawn, microphone held out as the cameraman slowly followed behind, Chelsea thought she might trip. Secretly she wished she would.

"Are you Chelsea O'Neal?" The woman asked, shoving the microphone in her face.

"Uh…yes." Chelsea took a large step back, giving both individuals a funny look. She did not like where this was going.

"Cindy Harper, Channel 4 News. Tell me, Chelsea, how did you survive the hospital explosion when everyone else perished?"

Oh, she really did not like where this was going.

"I…I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied, moving back toward the house.

"You were working that night, were you not?" Cindy followed, trying to stab Chelsea with the microphone.

"You guys need to get off my property right now." She climbed the stairs and reached the door, stepping inside.

"Why did you disappear afterwards? Where did you go?"

Chelsea slammed the door in Cindy's face, locking everything possible on it. She went to all the windows, locking them as well and drawing the curtains. Trinity watched with curiosity as Chelsea began to pace back and forth, mumbles things under her breath. The phone in the living room began to ring, the only one in the house still connected. Chelsea grabbed it and slammed it down on the receiver.

"No no no! No more!" She collapsed on the couch and buried her head in her hands, trying very hard not to cry. She was sick of that.

"Aunt Chelsea, are you okay?"

Chelsea looked up at Trinity and almost swore. She could have beat herself for becoming so undone in front of the girl. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and took her niece by the hand.

"Of course I am. Everything is fine. Those news people just annoyed me, that's all." She paused, trying to think of something to distract her. "Would you like to watch a movie, Trinity?"

The girl thought a moment before breaking out into a toothy grin. "Lion King!"

"Lion King? That's the third time this week!"

"Again!" Trinity shouted, running to her room. Chelsea smiled, following her upstairs, ignoring the phone as it began to ring once more.

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><p>Chelsea found herself unable to sleep again. She sat outside on the swings looking up at the sky again. Now she could see the stars but they came no closer to telling her the truth than the clouds had. She turned away from the scene, resting her head against the chain, pushing herself back and forth with one foot.<p>

It had not been a good evening.

Mitchell had come home to several reporters practically camping in his front yard. That was the last straw for him. After getting assistance from the local police department to get them off the property, Mitchell had made a beeline for Chelsea. He kept Trinity upstairs, occupied with another movie, and brought his sister into the kitchen, getting her to sit down at the table and telling her not to budge until she explained everything to him.

"You came home and told me nothing. I've been letting a lot slide. The dreams, the blood, the phone calls but enough is enough Chelsea. I love you, Sis but I can't keep living in the dark." He sat down across from her, running a hand through his hair. She could see gray starting to mix in with it. Part of her wondered how much of that was her doing.

"The truth is very complicated, Mitchell. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," he replied, looking her dead in the eye. Chelsea could not hold his gaze and began to stare at the tabletop. She said nothing. Mitchell gave an aggravated sigh. "Alright, I'll start. How did you get out of the hospital? We thought you were dead and despite what you think, I still haven't forgiven you for not calling."

"I wouldn't expect you to." She paused. "I, uh…I left the hospital before it happened."

Mitchell leaned forward. "You just…left? Got up and walked out of a hospital?"

Chelsea cringed at his tone of voice. It made her sound so irresponsible. She supposed she was. "I know how it sounds. I didn't leave unprovoked…I was attacked."

She felt the air get tense. "By who?"

"A security guard."

Well, at least she was not totally lying about it.

Mitchell was silent for a very long time. Chelsea did not like it. He might come up with more questions and she was definitely not in the mood for those.

"I stayed with a friend for a few days. I was a little more than freaked out and then when I heard about the hospital…I was just…destroyed. I'm sorry I didn't call. I can't say that enough but I didn't know what to do with myself."

He nodded, considering her story. "And what about those symbols?"

Chelsea could have been Shakespeare and not have been able to talk her way out of this one. There was no explaining that. What was she supposed to say, that she joined some cult and this was a ritual of theirs? That was worse than the truth.

She took a breath. "There are some things I can't tell you, Mitchell. You're just going to have to trust me on this."

Needless to say, Mitchell was a little more than angry. He gave her a good ten minute rant on how reckless she had become and how he did not know her anymore, ending with the still resonating: "it's like mom and dad dying all over again." That had hurt her badly, stung like he had actually shoved something into her chest. She walked away then and went to the backyard where she still sat now.

Her foot had stopped moving the swing. She sat there in silence, staring at the fence on the other side. Why was everything still falling apart? It seemed like she had asked herself that question hundreds of times and she probably had. Maybe Cas was right; maybe fate did have something against them. Going against the rules never faired to well for others anyway.

The sound of wings made her heart skip a beat. If there was anyone who could make her feel a little better, it would be Cas. However, when she looked at him, it only made her heart sink more.

He was not hurt, at least not in the physical way like before, but something was missing. The way he stood, his body language, it was all wrong. He looked around the backyard as though he recognized nothing in it. Everything was foreign and strange. Then he looked to his hands, examining every last detail of them. The look on his face made her think there was blood on them but his hands were as clean as they always were.

And then he looked to her.

Chelsea held in a gasp as she met his eyes. They appeared so dead and lost, like a man who had done something he would come to regret. He had done something he deemed terrible and it was not hard for her to guess at what it was.

Suddenly he fell, hitting his knees first and then bracing himself with his hands on the ground. Chelsea ran out of the swing instantly, sliding onto her knees in front of him. She put her hands on his face and picked him up. His eyes startled her more, so dead that there seemed to be no color to them.

He stared at her for a long time, barely holding up his own weight. Chelsea wanted to say something but she could not form the words. Her voice had failed her, too terrified to discover the truth.

"We're at war," he spoke suddenly, his voice sounding surprised more than anything, as though he had never expected anything like this to happen. She could not blame him for thinking that. Civil war was hardly something one thought of when it came to Heaven.

He then collapsed in her arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace that seemed to be for his own comfort if anything. Chelsea quickly reciprocated, biting her lip hard as she tried to think of something to say, but there were no words to be said. Nothing could help. If it were possible for an angel to cry, this might have been what it looked like and it killed her to think that it had come this far.

She looked over his shoulder to the sky again. So this was war looked like…peace.

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><p>The press finally abandoned their attempts to speak with her and the phone calls had actually ceased. None of that made her feel better though. Her thoughts were always occupied with Cas. He was at war. It would be no different for angels than it was for humans. War meant casualties; war meant death. She had not heard from him in so long. A paranoid part of her already believed him to be dead but she would not let it take control. Cas was strong and had seen more than the others. He could handle himself.<p>

Sighing, Chelsea flopped on the couch and started flipping through midday soaps. At some point she would have to get a job or go back to her old one or something, not to mention all of her stuff was still in her apartment but it all seemed so trivial, not that there was anything else she could do. A nurse with an angel imprint was hardly an advantage to anyone, even if she could handle a shotgun. The prerequisite seemed a little higher than that.

"Ugh, what am I thinking?" Chelsea asked herself, standing again. Was she seriously considering trying the life of a hunter? Was that what that was all about? Or was it just about feeling useful and not having to be someone that was defended all the time? Well, whatever it was, that line of thinking had to stop now. She deep enough in crazy already, there was no need to drown.

There was a rapid knocking at the door. Chelsea nearly swore. She just could not have one day's peace, could she? She walked up to the door, actually ready to confront whatever news station was at her door but when she whipped it open, all she could do was gape.

Standing before her was Brad Schaeffer.

"Brad," she breathed, feeling extremely faint. Her grip on the door seemed ready to crush it.

"Chelsea. It's so…good to see you," he said with a smile, stepping over the threshold. His hand reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear but she quickly slapped it away.

"Don't touch me, Brad." Her voice was cold as steel.

"I can't help it. I haven't seen you in so long and I thought I never would again." He reached out again, this time to stroke her cheek but she took a step back. He frowned. "You still haven't forgiven me."

Her eyes widened. "Forgiven you? This is no longer about you sleeping with some tramp, Brad! You were calling every day! You're practically…no, you are a stalker!"

"I just wanted to see you." Again he tried to touch her.

"Get away from me!" She shoved him and moved for the phone, attempting to dial for the police.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, suddenly showing up at her side and grabbing her wrist. His grip was tight and suddenly Chelsea was afraid but she tried not to let it show.

"Let me go, Brad!" She struggled against his grip but he only tightened it, the look on his face becoming more maniacal by the second. "I said let me go!"

With all the force she could muster, Chelsea slapped him, getting his grip to loosen enough for her to escape. She reached for anything she could use as a weapon, ending up with an umbrella that sat in the corner of the room. Suddenly, Brad began to laugh. He rubbed his jaw softly and then looked at her like she was some pitiful creature.

"Now, Chelsea, that wasn't very nice," he said, still chuckling. Then his eyes filled with that familiar black color. Chelsea felt her heart stop.

"Oh God."

Suddenly she had no control over her body. Like a ragdoll she was lifted into the air and thrown against the wall, hitting her head hard. She collapsed onto the floor, her blurry vision making out Brad's form walking toward her.

"God ain't here, sweetheart. It's just you and me."

It was the last thing she heard before the world faded…

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><p>Cliffie! I know you guys missed them! hehe. Don't worry, I'll probably have chapter four up in like a matter of days. I'm so excited to write it. It may end up being my favorite, which is actually pretty demented. You'll find out why. Thanks for reading!<p> 


	4. Worse than Hell

Told you guys I'd write it fast! Okay, I'd better put out a warning: disturbing images ahead. Actually I thought it was tamer than what I was going to write but according to my beta it's still pretty dang freaky so uh…yeah. You've been warned.

Thanks for the reviews! You guys are awesome as always! And honestly, I can't wait for the next ones. *cough* Just…yeah. Hate me. Please. :D

**I do not own Supernatural. If I did, the Impala would never be touched again. Period.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

**Worse than Hell**

_Castiel walked through the halls of the mansion, observing the petty paintings that hung from the walls with reserved distaste. It seemed typical of Raphael to choose this abode for their meeting. It suited him, a little too perfectly in his opinion. This man's admittance into Heaven was always questioned, not just by him but by many others. Perhaps that was why Raphael enjoyed his soul so much. The two had many…common practices. _

"_Welcome Castiel." Raphael's calm, cool voice came from a large, leather chair where he sat like a king on his throne, a smirk tugging at his lips. "How was Hell?"_

"_I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," Castiel replied, a response that he felt Dean would approve of. He tried to sound as though he did not care about Raphael's remark but on the inside his anger burned. The entertainment in his brother's voice was the most infuriating part. No angel of Heaven should joke about such things. The day Lucifer fell was a somber day and no angel ever spoke of it again without a twinge of sadness in their voice. _

_A low sound that Castiel could only describe as a chuckle slowly emanated from Raphael's throat. "I have forgotten how naïve you are. It seems your time with the humans has affected you."_

"_Perhaps it has. My eyes have been opened, Raphael. I know what you're planning and it does not have to be that way."_

"_Really?" Raphael asked, his head tilting subtly. He actually sounded intrigued. "And tell me, Castiel, what do these worms know about opening our eyes, hmm? What do they see that we cannot?"_

"_They see many things, Raphael. You underestimate them."_

_If it was possible, his brother's face became even more stoic and his voice dropped an octave. "The only thing I underestimate is your ability to understand. Clearly you have been blinded by the affections you hold for your pet." _

"_My pet?"_

"_I believe you call her Chelsea."_

_Castiel took a bold step forward. "Never speak her name again."_

_Now Raphael was actually laughing. Humans would call it bone-chilling. Castiel found its effect to be the opposite. "You risk much to protect this human, but can you guarantee that she is actually safe?"_

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><p>Chelsea returned to consciousness sooner than she had wanted to. Her head was pounding and her wrists felt like they were on fire. Slowly she opened her eyes, staring at a dark world. From what little light was in there she could tell that she was in the basement. Nothing had been moved around, much less touched. It did not feel right.<p>

When she tried to move, Chelsea realized she was not on the floor. Her legs swung back and forth, unable to touch the floor as her arms screamed out in pain. Chelsea bit her tongue to keep her voice from doing the same. She glanced up, seeing her wrists bound by handcuffs, chained around an exposed pipe. She grabbed the chain by her hands, relieving the pain slightly, and pulled down as hard as she could. Unfortunately the pipe was strong and was certainly not going to give way.

"Cas," she whispered, scanning the room as though he was actually there. "Cas, I need you."

Her answer came in the form of the basement door opening behind her. Light flooded the room, revealing dusty objects of her youth scattered all around. Her shadow stretched the length of the basement, making her feet appear much further from the ground. Another shadow entered the scene, beginning its descent down the stairs, the wood creaking all the way. It was like some scene from a horror movie and Chelsea felt her heart jump into her throat.

She closed her eyes, praying to God she could just disappear. The pounding of her heart overtook her sense of hearing so she did not notice the footsteps as the stopped right behind her. It was not until his finger began to trace her spine along her exposed back that she knew. Chelsea could not help but scream, her body attempting to move away from him. All she managed to do was flail her legs and injure her wrists even more.

Brad clasped his hand over her mouth, cutting off her scream. "My, my, aren't we jumpy?" He let go once she 'calmed down,' her breaths shaky and short. "You're gonna have to toughen up if you want to live in this life, darlin'."

"Who are you?" she asked, despite the fact she did not want to know.

"What, you don't recognize me?" Brad asked, stepping back with his arms wide open. He even did a little spin and then looked himself over. "Well, I guess the meat suit gets in the way. Tell you what, I'll give you a hint. Your fine, feathery friend knows me very, very well."

Images of Hell appeared in her head, the clawing, the laughter, the plan.

"Thatch," Chelsea said, the pitch of her voice high as she came to the terrifying conclusion.

"Bingo."

Chelsea shook her head. "Cas isn't here. He won't come."

"Now, let's not kid ourselves here, Chelsea," Thatch replied, crossing his arms. "We both know that's not true. If it's the last thing he does, Castiel will come for you. I personally find it revolting but it works out well for the plan."

She remembered the plan well and felt the blood drain from her face in an instant. Her body wanted to thrash wildly, attempt to break free somehow but her fear kept her still.

Thatch walked to the back of the room where he grabbed a roll of tape from a table. He placed a piece over her mouth, making comforting sounds as she began to involuntarily whimper. They were like the sounds a mother would make to a scared child.

"I used to enjoy the screams," Thatch said with a tone of voice that suggested he was reminiscing. "But eventually they got in the way. I couldn't think so I found a way to block them. Hearing a muffled scream is just as good. After all, it's about quantity, not quality." He smiled in a way that a businessman would. Chelsea closed her eyes and tried to turn away. Part of her wanted Cas to appear and take her away but the other part wanted him to stay far away. She did not want to risk anything happening to him.

He grabbed her chin and made her turn back. "Ah, none of that now. You chose this, now you get to suffer the consequences. You humans seem to fail to comprehend that." He paused, picking up a knife. Chelsea's eyes went wide. "Now, hold still sweetheart, I want to test something."

For the next hour, Chelsea went through her own Hell. Thatch's blade carved into her skin in ways that reminded her of the dream but the pain was so much more intense. In the end, the dream really was only a dream but here and now was reality and there was no escaping it. Her throat was horse from all her screaming but every time he touched the blade to her skin, her voice never failed to react.

Thatch did not say much as he did his work. Occasionally he made a comment to himself. At one point she could have sworn he was humming a song. He tortured her with the concentration a painter would give his canvas, completely engrossed, intent on a masterpiece.

Eventually he stopped, backing away, looking over his work of art. Chelsea took deep breaths, feeling every cut on her torso and chest. She could not tell how many there were; she lost count at one. Blood slowly made its way down her body. Eventually she could feel it dripping off her exposed toes. Tears ran down her face, helping to loosen the tape. Not that it mattered. Her screams would not help her.

"It's very interesting," Thatch said eventually, nodding. He looked up at the ceiling. "You can't feel that, Castiel? I'm cutting into her flesh and you feel nothing? Can't you hear her scream? Are you going to do nothing?"

Chelsea glanced around the room, half expecting him to show up but it was just as empty as before.

Thatch looked back down. "You picked one hell of a boyfriend there, Chelsea."

"Yes, she did."

Before Chelsea could pinpoint where the voice had come from, Thatch went flying across the room, slamming against the wall with a sickening thud. She saw Castiel storm up to Thatch as he attempted to get back up, laughing all the way. Castiel grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground.

"I should have smote you the instant I escaped Perdition."

Thatch smiled. "Yes, you should have." Grabbing Cas by his trench coat, Thatch threw him to a space just before Chelsea. Cas seemed unharmed and was about ready to get up and finish what he started when a ring of fire grew around him. His eyes widened and Chelsea could have sworn she saw a look of fear cross his face. It was holy oil and he could not escape it. His eyes turned to her and for the first time he saw what Thatch had done. According to the look on his face, Chelsea did not want to see it, but she already knew that from the pain flowing through her body.

"I see you're admiring my work," Thatch said as he stepped in between them. Chelsea could still see Cas from her vantage point and the look on his face was much like the one on that day in the cemetery, the day he helped save the world. It hardly looked like that now.

"Let her go, Thatch. This is between you and me."

Thatch made a tsking sound. "Now, Castiel, have you forgotten all about what I told you?" He began to pace back and forth, never straying far from Cas's gaze. "Here's a reminder: I get out of Hell, I grab your near and dear one-" At that, Thatch grabbed her arm and pulled her forward slightly. "-and I make you watch as I cut her to ribbons."

He grabbed his knife again, running the smooth side along her cheek. She was whimpering again, trying to turn away from the blade but Thatch grabbed her chin again, making her watch the movements of it from the corner of her eye. Occasionally she could catch her reflection from it. It contained a terrified thing that she hardly recognized.

The blade traveled down her neck and across her shoulder, picking at the strap of her tank before settling on her chest. She held her breath in anticipation of the pain, but Thatch removed it from her skin. He started to examine the knife, shaking his head.

"You know, everyone always goes for the sharp knives…but those are never fun. They cut too easily, make it less painful." He threw the knife at the wall, plowing it in by at least an inch. Then he picked up another one, giving it an approving nod. "Always go for something dull…it makes the skin tear."

Thatch approached her again and Chelsea felt herself trying to move, but of course it was to no avail. She tried not to look at Cas, tried not to look like she was begging him to save her because she knew there was nothing he could do. As simple as it looked for him to just be able to step over the fire and end this demon's life, she knew it was impossible. But he was the only light in the dark, the only good thing there. She could not help but be drawn to him and in his gaze she saw his desperation, anger and fear, and suddenly she was more afraid of what was to come.

Again, Thatch placed a knife on her chest. Just as he was about to begin, he stopped, examining Chelsea's face for a moment.

"Ah yes," he said, ripping the tape from Chelsea's mouth. She gulped the air in as Thatch turned to Cas. "I want you to hear everything." His voice became lower at the last word and she could hear pleasure vibrating through each syllable.

"I will kill you," Cas threatened in a voice that was not his own.

Thatch smiled. "Well, by all means, just step across those flames and have at it. No? Nothing? Well then, let's continue."

The next half hour of her life was the longest.

Chelsea tried not to make a sound, tried to be strong but she was not the Winchesters and she certainly was no angel. She was a normal human being caught in a world she did not fully understand; she was not built to endure pain and as much as it hurt Cas, she still screamed. Somehow it made it more endurable.

He stopped suddenly, turning his head upward as though he searched for something. Chelsea felt her head dip forward, her consciousness waning. She could make out a pool of red on the floor. How was she still alive? Could he keep her this way?

Suddenly she heard the sound of the front door opening and shutting, as well as Trinity's voice calling out for her. Chelsea's head snapped up in an instant and with a renewed energy she began to shout at the floorboards.

"Get out!" she cried, hoping that her brother's curiosity would not drive him to do the opposite. "Mitchell, get out of here!"

Chelsea looked back down a moment and noticed that Thatch was no longer with them. She looked around, desperate to find him still in the basement somewhere but he was long gone. Cas still stared at the place he once stood, looking more like a shell than anything alive.

"Mitchell!" she shouted again as she started to cry. "Get out!"

And then she heard the screams.

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><p>It had been quiet for a long time. The basement had grown dark, save for the continuing flicker of the flames around Cas. Chelsea hung limply from the handcuffs. She no longer cried; she did not have the energy to. She was cold and in so much pain it hardly registered anymore.<p>

For one moment she lifted her head up. It was stiff from having been in that position for so long but she held it up long enough to see Cas concentrating on something. She had the urge to ask him what he was doing but her voice had no chance now. It was so hoarse that even breathing hurt. Slowly she followed his gaze. It was focused on the handcuffs. If she squinted, she could see one of the screws moving.

Chelsea did not feel her impact on the floor. Part of her still believed she was hanging there but when her wrists practically cried out in joyous relief, she knew that she was down.

"You have to get out of here," Cas said as she looked up at him. He must have gone crazy. There was no way she could go on her own and there was no way she would leave him or her family.

Her arms were useless. She could not stand or even get on her knees, so she began to crawl, pulling herself slowly forward despite the protests from every part of her body.

"Chelsea, what are you doing?"

"Saving you, that's what." She was a good six feet away. It may as well have been sixty.

"And how do you plan on extinguishing the flames? With your body?" He spoke as though she was crazy. Cas needed a lesson in what it means to have nothing to lose.

"Good thing you can heal people huh?"

She crawled forward, almost able to reach the line with her fingers. Cas had kneeled down and looked her straight in the eye. She could see how desperate he was to get out and fix everything. And behind that, she could see the anger. Mixed with the flames, he looked more like a creature from Hell than an angel of Heaven.

_Just a little more pain_ she thought. _A little more pain and everything is fixed. It's all just going to be a bad dream._

Something grabbed her ankle.

Chelsea's head bolted up and she looked straight into Cas's eyes. He knew then that something was wrong and he tried to reach out to her but was unable as whatever had her pulled her straight back into the darkness.

"Cas!" She screamed, her voice vanishing as quickly as she had.

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><p>*peeks out from behind hiding place* What did you think?<p>

And for some reason, I picture Josh Holloway (Lost) as Thatch. Seems like him. Thanks for reading!


	5. The Hard Decision

And I'm back! Man oh man was this chapter so much fun to write! I even made it extra long as you can see! I hope you guys like this! Gah it was great! Whoo! I'm so pumped up right now! Also, I got Silence, the third book in the Hush, Hush trilogy. Whoo!

Thanks for the fantastic reviews! You guys are the best there is!

**I do not own Supernatural. If I did, John Winchester would be back somehow because I have the biggest crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan. :P**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

**The Hard Decision**

"I'm sorry, Mitchell," Chelsea whispered, knowing very well that she could not be heard, though his body was lying not four feet away from her. They were on the floor in the living room. She was not tied to anything but her body was so beaten and cut up, moving her head had become too difficult a task to do. That was why she was still staring at her brother though she prayed to God that she was not.

He was still alive, from what she could tell, but barely. His clothes were still intact but they were blood soaked, the red liquid pooling around his body. She did not want to know what Thatch did to him. The screams told her too much as it was. Her arm was outstretched toward him, nearly touching his hand but still so far. She closed her eyes, the only thing she could do against it all.

She had not seen Trinity and for that she was thankful.

Chelsea tried to disappear, become lost in her mind if that was possible. She could not feel pain any longer. Maybe this was what it was like to go into shock. She thought about all those patients she had seen at the ER. They were so cold and confused but at the same time, there was this calm about them. Maybe she was dying.

Footsteps caught her attention and her eyes snapped open, unfortunately focusing on her brother again. There were no words to describe what she felt at seeing him that way, knowing it must have been her fault. Maybe if she had told him things would have been better. At the very least, she would have at least been kicked out of the house so only she was the one who had to suffer.

"Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea," Thatch said with a sort of disappointed tone. The fact that it was all with Brad's voice made it all the more horrible and terrifying. She felt her body snap up to a standing position all of a sudden. Thatch put his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. "Brooding does not look good on you. Has anyone ever told you that?"

She said nothing, only stared at a blood stain on his shirt.

He looked down. "Sorry about the mess, sweetheart, blood's a little hard to control," Thatch paused. "You remember this shirt, don't you?"

A light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the top buttons undone, of course she remembered it. That was her favorite shirt of his, though she was biased in her affections toward it. She had bought it for him after all. But Chelsea said none of that. She simply stood there limply, allowing whatever force that was holding her up to continue its job.

"He proposed in this shirt, didn't he?" he asked, circling around her like some vulture. She only blinked in response. "It was on that beach in Miami, small, secluded with that candlelight dinner set up to watch the sunset perfectly." He grimaced as though the image of it pained him. "But then he went and ruined it all, didn't he?"

Thatch stopped behind her, getting extremely close. His cheek brushed against hers, the stubble on his face scratching her skin, and his arms wrapped around her waist. It was how Brad liked to hold her but this was no longer Brad, which was why she had grown stiff and extremely aware of surroundings. She could feel his breath on her neck and his hands almost caressing her cuts, awakening the pain and causing them to bleed again.

"You know, he tried to kill himself before I took control. Guess you really were the one." Chelsea bit her tongue and felt his face turn inwards toward her ear, whispering, "What do you think Castiel will do for you?"

"Why don't you kill me already and find out," Chelsea spit, coming to terms with her death in a matter of moments.

Thatch began to laugh then, releasing her from his physical grip but not from whatever held her in place. "And ruin all the fun? Chelsea, you know me better than that." He stepped in front of her again, leaning in so close their faces nearly touched. "As long as I'm amused, I don't stop and right now, consider me thoroughly entertained."

Chelsea did not say anything in response and Thatch looked a little disappointed. "What? Nothing to say?"

"I can't wait for him to kill you," she deadpanned, eyes narrowing.

He smiled. "I like the attitude. People like you are particularly fun to break. In fact, why don't you follow me?" Thatch walked over to the kitchen doorway a few feet away. Chelsea stayed in place, unable to move, until he motioned to her with his finger. Suddenly she flew forward, as though someone had shoved her in his direction. She came to a halt just behind him with only a sliver of a view into the kitchen. It was enough for her to see a small, blood covered hand lying on the floor.

Chelsea choked back a cry, closing her eyes as the tears began to form. She sensed Thatch turn in her direction and could practically feel his sadistic smile.

"No comeback? Guess I killed that attitude quick, much faster than her anyway."

She took a deep, shaky breath, feeling every part of her break from what she had experienced. She was crippled in every way, shape and form; she could no longer take it. Opening her eyes, she was about ready to beg for her death when something in the hallway behind Thatch caught her attention.

"What are you looking at?" Thatch asked, turning around. He froze and for a moment, was actually speechless.

It had grown dark in the household by now. A few lights were on in the living room but the hallway was nearly pitch black. Still, there was an unmistakable silhouette of a human being near the end. The two just watched him for some time. Chelsea saw Thatch tense up. He looked ready for a fight, or something else. She almost did not believe it but he appeared frightened.

"How are you here?" Not a moment after the words left his mouth, Thatch was flung across the room, crashing into the front door. He did not laugh this time and stayed on the floor instead of getting up.

Whatever kind of hold he had on Chelsea was extinguished and she felt herself falling. Strong arms gripped her however and kept her from hitting the floor. They belonged to the silhouette only now he was in the light and she could make out his features. Chelsea felt that she knew him though at the moment she could not place where she may have seen him before.

Her rescuer looked to Thatch. He seemed ready to try something but a second later abandoned the idea. His mouth opened wide and the most horrifying scream unleashed itself as black smoke poured out from him. Chelsea instinctively turned toward her rescuer in an attempt to protect herself. She felt his arms grow tighter around her until the screaming subsided.

Turning back, Chelsea looked at Thatch. No, he was no longer the demon. He was Brad again, a very human and very motionless being. She was afraid for him. None of this was his fault and she did not want him to die. No one deserved death.

"Is he-?"

"He's fine," her rescuer said abruptly. "Hold still."

He placed his hand on her forehead and immediately the room went white. She felt the familiar heat of her body being healed rapidly and when the light faded, her energy returned with a vengeance. Despite her obvious ability to walk again, her rescuer picked her up and brought her over to the couch where he placed her in a sitting position. He said nothing to her but turned to her brother. She watched in silent awe as he healed him as well.

Mitchell gasped and nearly head butted the man as he tried to sit up. He stared at her rescuer as he crossed the living room and went into the kitchen. A few moments later, he emerged with a breathing, blood-free Trinity.

"Daddy!" Trinity cried out as Mitchell ran to her, grabbing her away from the man quickly. He may have saved their lives but that did not mean he trusted him; he did not even know how he saved them.

Chelsea stood up and hugged both her brother and niece for a few moments before looking over to her rescuer again. He walked over to Brad and appeared to heal him too. She stepped away from her family and went toward him as he helped pick Brad up, though he was more or less still out of it.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her rescuer said nothing, he simply locked eyes with her, for the first time she noticed they were a beautiful hazel color, and winked. The next second he was gone, along with Brad, and Chelsea was left staring at an empty space. She could have sworn she heard wings. An angel. Of course he was an angel, no one else could have done what he did just like-

"Cas!" Chelsea shouted, bolting for the stairs to the basement. She ripped the door open and bounded down practically four steps at a time until she hit the bottom. Cas was still there, facing away from the door with the slouch of a broken man. He turned around at the sound of her approach, the new look on his face indescribable. She grabbed a nearby blanket, smothering the flames, and jumped into what was left of the circle to embrace Cas, breaking out into tears once more.

He fell to his knees but Chelsea was perfectly content to go along. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck where she buried her face. She took in his scent and his warmth and felt safe again. There in his arms, she felt that no one could harm her. He held her gently yet firmly and ran a hand through her hair. They stayed that way for some time, just content to be in each other's arms until Cas pulled away, his face never straying far from hers.

"How did you escape?" he asked, looking her over. "How are you healed?"

"There was an angel, Cas," she spoke softly, as though afraid someone would hear. "He saved me, healed Mitchell and Trinity and left with Brad. He wouldn't tell me who he was."

Chelsea saw a very confused look dawn on his face. He turned away a moment, thinking. "One of my brothers? With the war in Heaven, none would have come, not until it was…" He did not dare finish the sentence and looked down in shame. Chelsea shook her head and lifted him up with her hand. She planted a soft kiss on his lips that threatened to turn into more if she did not pull away.

"It doesn't matter, Cas. We're safe."

They heard a creak and turned to see her brother standing at the top of the stairs, Trinity still tightly wrapped in his arms.

"Who was that?" he asked, walking down the stairs. "Who are you?"

"It's Cas the angel, Daddy," Trinity said, smiling at him.

"Sweetheart, Cas is not an angel. He's…I don't know what he is." Mitchell gave him a wary look. He, of course, had never met Cas and seeing him so close with his sister did not help cast a good light on him.

"Mitchell, I can explain, I-"

Cas put a hand out, cutting Chelsea off. He stood and then helped her up, before taking a deep breath. "Your daughter is right, Mitchell. I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord."

Her brother looked like he was about to laugh. "You're joking, right?"

"Mitchell, please listen to him," Chelsea said, stepping forward. Mitchell took an equally large step back.

"You believe him? Are you crazy?" he asked, backing away toward the stairs again.

"I know how it looks but please, you have to believe him."

Out of the corner of her eye, Chelsea saw Cas disappear. She then saw him reappear behind her now very wide-eyed brother.

"Is this proof enough?" Mitchell jumped and backed away the other direction, the sheer look of terror plastered on his face.

"Get away from us! You are not touching me or my daughter!"

"Mitchell, Cas is only trying to help!" Chelsea shouted. Trinity covered her ears and began to cry.

"Trying to help? Where was he when that thing attacked us, Chelsea? Where was he when Trinity was bleeding on the floor? Where was he when…no, no he's not here to help. He's the reason we were attacked and you brought him here."

The look her older brother gave her was enough to crush Chelsea and was far more painful than any of the torture that Thatch had given her. She looked to Cas desperately, hoping he had some kind of plan. The looks he gave her brother were none too kind but he sighed and nodded.

"Chelsea, grab Trinity."

Mitchell gripped his daughter tighter. "Hey you're not taking her from me! You're-"

Cas appeared beside Mitchell, touching his forehead lightly. In an instant, her brother was fast asleep, his body being coaxed down slowly by Cas while Chelsea grabbed her niece, soothing her quietly. The two shared a look but said nothing else.

* * *

><p>Castiel wandered the halls of Chelsea's house for some time. Together he and Chelsea had put her family in their respective rooms. They were both asleep at this point and he had promised her that neither of them would remember this incident in the morning. She had nodded but was distant, shutting herself in her room soon after. He did not follow. Enough trouble had been caused on his behalf.<p>

He stood in the living room, staring down the hallway where Chelsea had mentioned first seeing the angel. It was unlike any of his brothers. Most would not have come to help, especially now with all the chaos as he had said. Rachel might have, but Chelsea insisted it was a man. Perhaps Balthazar but skipping out before a proper introduction was out of character. Besides, neither of them would have left him in the basement surrounded by holy oil. At the very least, all angels took care of their own.

She mentioned what few traits she knew about him but it did not help. Castiel was puzzled, and concerned. An angel he did not know was helping them with no foreseeable cause and without explaining himself. He began to wonder if maybe it was not an angel but another demon. It seemed possible, though for what reasons he could not fathom. Things were very unusual now after the Apocalypse. Perhaps Crowley would know. As much as he hated that demon, it appeared he needed his help…again. If anything, he was certain the new King of Hell could help him track down Thatch.

Castiel found his fists clenching tightly and his breath came much faster. The demon would pay for what he did, one way or another. It would not be quick. Thatch would, as the humans said, get a taste of his own medicine.

Calming himself, Castiel went upstairs again. He checked on Mitchell and Trinity for paranoia's sake before stopping in front of Chelsea's door. There he stood for a long time, debating whether or not he should enter. Part of him said no, it was still too soon but another part, a much larger one, urged him to go inside. It was the right thing to do. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and walked inside.

Chelsea was lying on her bed facing the window. Though he could not see her face, he knew that she was still awake. Her posture was tense and uncomfortable looking. She did not react as he walked in, not even an involuntary movement from the sudden noise. She simply kept looking at the wall. Castiel felt as though he had made the wrong decision but kept moving forward nonetheless.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her for a few moments. From this position, he could see the glint of one of her eyes. It blinked on occasion but other than that she gave no signs of life.

Castiel turned away and looked quickly to the ceiling for help. "Chelsea I…I promise this will never happen again," he said, sounding more confident at the end.

All was quiet for a while. Chelsea still did not move. Castiel began to wonder if he should leave after all. Just as he was about to make the decision to get up, she spoke.

"How do you know?"

Castiel turned to her, caught off guard by the tone of her voice. "What do you mean?"

Now Chelsea flipped over, looking more lifeless now than she had earlier. "How do you know that this won't happen again?"

He stared at her for a few moments, feeling the burn of her gaze as she sought out the truth. Unable to hold it, he turned back to the wall. "I…I don't."

He was a failure. Here he was expecting that everything would go alright for the two of them and he had let his guard down. His ego had gotten in the way. He assumed that since he was an angel, she would be safe. How wrong he had been and how dearly it had cost him. He nearly lost her that day. It felt like something was tearing out his grace at the thought of it.

Castiel felt a hand on his shoulder, coaxing him down onto the bed. He fell back on it in the most awkward fashion possible and looked at Chelsea strangely. She then lied down next to him, resting her head on the shoulder she had touched while placing her arm across his chest. She nestled into his side and appeared quite comfortable there. He was not certain how to react, feeling his face grow warmer. Chelsea seemed to get the hint, grabbing the arm closest to her and wrapping it around her side. She then sighed and seemed to be ready to drift off to sleep.

Whatever this was, Castiel could not say he was disappointed in it. He rather liked this position and felt it getting less awkward every moment they were in it. He watched her lie there across his chest, noting how peaceful she looked. He wished it could have been that way all the time. Then he noticed something, a small tear coming down from her eye. Using his free hand, he wiped it away and wondered what it was for.

"I want you to do something for me," she whispered when he put his arm down, his hand now resting on hers. Castiel did not like where this was going so he remained silent. "My family is no longer safe. Promise me that they'll forget."

He was confused. "I have already wiped their memories of this."

She sat up and looked him dead in the eye. "Not just this, everything. They need to forget you and they need to forget me…entirely."

Castiel blinked a few times before the full weight of what she said set in. "Chelsea, you cannot ask me to-"

Chelsea put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Yes I can. It's too dangerous for them. They can't be involved."

He shook his head, unwilling to listen to this. "Chelsea, I can protect you and them. I will. This does not have to happen."

"Yes, it does, Cas. You are at war. You're hardly ever around. You can't be here all the time."

Castiel opened his mouth to counter her but shut it again. She had a point. He had not even known she was in trouble. The war was too distracting. If he constantly thought of her, he was putting his brothers and sisters in danger and vice versa. As much as he wanted to say no, he had to agree with her.

"In the morning," he said, nodding. Chelsea relaxed against him again, shaking a little. She was almost asleep when she spoke one last time.

"And I need to forget…too."

Castiel closed his eyes. He wished she had not said that but again she had a point. It would not matter if her brother and niece did not remember her, as long as his enemies knew they held a place in her heart, they would attack them. She would have to forget them. It was the only way for them to be safe.

He wrapped his arm around her tighter and when he was certain she had fallen asleep, he placed two fingers on her forehead.

* * *

><p>Comments? Concerns? Rants? Post'em below! Thanks for reading!<p> 


	6. Her New Reality

Holy crap that took way too long! I'm sorry everyone! But hey, look! I finally finished! It's shorter than the last couple chapters, really just a big filler but it has stuff necessary for the story.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing and alerting and favoriting! Ya'll are awesome! Special shout outs to **Ziggymia123** for being my ever faithful reader (I miss you!). **Superloudean** for keeping me going and for updating her story that I've been waiting forever for. :D

AND UBER SPECIAL THANK YOU TO **Lady Wesker **for making a trailer to The Best Defense! Link is on my profile! Let her know what ya'll think!

Oh, and also, just celebrated the big 21st birthday yesterday. Got a free Lonestar concert over here in Kuwait so I think that makes up for not being able to drink. :D

Okay, without further adieu, here is chapter six.

**I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Christian Kane would have been on by now. :(**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

**Her New Reality**

Bobby had seen a lot of strange things in his day. It came with the job. That was usually why he had a bottle of alcohol near him. Some things just needed to be forgotten. He never for one second believed that he had seen it all, mostly because he had not. There was always something new to make him scratch his head. Still, he never figured he would see Castiel appear in the middle of his living room with a very unconscious Chelsea in his arms.

At that moment, Bobby had been in the middle of taking a swig his whiskey. He promptly spit it all over his desk when the angel materialized in front of him.

"What in the hell, Cas!" he shouted, hand on his sawed off shotgun, ready to pull it up at any second.

Castiel turned to him for one moment, mumbling in his familiar monotone, "Don't ask."

Normally Bobby would have some kind of snide remark to follow, but for once the angel had left him speechless. Now, Castiel was not exactly the merriest being he had ever met. Hell, it took the world almost ending to even get him to crack a smile. But when he met his gaze, Bobby felt his response die in his throat. The angel looked defeated, downtrodden, demoralized, whatever word there was to describe how miserable he was. Whatever happened that resulted in Castiel carrying Chelsea into his home was something that broke him and it took quite a bit to do that.

So, Bobby did not say anything else nor did he object when Castiel walked out and up the stairs, no doubt putting Chelsea in the room she had been staying in before. He had hoped that the angel would come back and explain at least something to him but he doubted it. And for the moment, he did not care. He may not have been an expert in the emotional department, but Bobby knew when to keep his distance.

He took an extra long swig from his whiskey, knowing that when he did finally get an explanation, he was not going to like it very much.

* * *

><p><em>Castiel stared at the long line of souls as they suffered their eternal punishment. It was certainly an…interesting way to go about things. His curiosity wondered what the other demons thought of this, or what they were even doing. But more prevalent than that was his caution. Here he was in Hell, open to any kind of attack. He was putting far too much trust into Crowley's possession.<em>

"_Not quite the Hell you remember, is it?" Castiel cast a sideways glance at Crowley but otherwise said nothing. "Too soon? I figured as much. Ah well…" _

_Crowley turned around and walked down an empty corridor. Castiel followed, remembering the bargain they had struck the last time he had been down here. He could not help but notice the coincidence of all the events and hoped that that was all it was. But coincidence never existed in their world and as much as he hated to, he had to remember that._

"_I hear you've been having demon troubles."_

"_And where would you have heard that?" Castiel asked, remaining calm, but there was an obvious threat in his tone._

"_When your feathery ass gets kicked by one of our own, the gossip tends to spread like wildfire," Crowley replied, stopping to look at him. "So please, tell me it was at least someone competent. Neither of us would want to be embarrassed in front of our colleagues, now would we?"_

_To say it was tempting to smite Crowley on the spot for making a joke of the situation would have been an understatement. Castiel balled up his fists and resisted as best he could. As much as it would torment him, he was going to need the demon's help._

"_He calls himself Thatch."_

_Crowley made a noise of disapproval. "That unsophisticated piece of garbage."_

"_Sounds as if you don't like him."_

"_Well of course not. He's messy, arrogant and completely intolerable."_

_The corner of Castiel's lip twitched. "Sounds like you."_

"_But I have finesse," Crowley replied, pointing at him. "Listen, I'll do you a favor. You hate the bastard as much as I do so I'll catch him for you, free of charge."_

_Castiel narrowed his eyes. His trust had been pulled to new extremes, but this was something else._

"_Why should I believe you?" he asked._

"_You shouldn't," Crowley said with a shrug. "But you're going to. Just…don't question my methods."_

* * *

><p>When Chelsea awoke that morning, there seemed to be a weight on her chest, a heavy burden that threatened to suffocate her. She turned on her side and wrapped herself tighter in the sheets, hoping to get rid of the chill sweeping through her body. There was a dullness at the edge of her memory, as though something that had once been there had become corrupted and forgotten. She allowed it to pester her a moment longer before sitting up. Through the curtains, she could just make out the sun rising in the distance.<p>

Sighing, Chelsea tucked a stray hair behind her ear, placing the hand on the empty space beside her. She noticed how warm it was despite the fact she had not been lying there. For a moment, she allowed a small smile to cross her face. Though she could not remember ever seeing him do it, Cas had stayed there with her. She was surprised he even let her out of his sight now after…

The smile disappeared. Her mind flirted with the memories but all she got out of it was a dull throbbing sensation everywhere she had been cut, which nearly felt like her entire body. It was hard to see past the pain so there would not be that much to remember. Chelsea was not sure if that was something to be grateful for or not.

For a moment, she remembered her rescuer. She could see those hazel eyes now, clear as day. Chelsea still could not shake the feeling that she knew the man, angel, whomever he was. She wondered why he had just disappeared the way he had. He probably had something to hide. That was all she needed, another mysterious entity that would get her into trouble in the future. She dealt with enough of them as it was.

Taking a deep breath, Chelsea got out of bed. She might as well face the day and whatever the future held for her. No doubt it was as dark and empty as her mind felt right now.

* * *

><p>Bobby was skimming through one of his many books when he heard the stairs creak. He looked up, placing the book on his desk, as Chelsea entered his field of vision. She was wearing a different outfit than before. For a moment he wondered how she accomplished that but then he remembered she was dating her own personal teleportation device. Her entire wardrobe could be upstairs at this point.<p>

She walked into the room, offering a polite smile. "Hey."

Chelsea was taking randomly waking up in his house rather well. "Hey, yourself," he said, watching her sit down on his couch. She looked comfortable but there was an obvious distance in her eyes. "You doin' alright?"

Her smile grew, though it was no longer genuine. "About as well as I can given the circumstances."

If only he knew what the damn circumstances were!

He was about to inquire further when Chelsea spoke again. "Listen, Bobby, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about the phone calls."

Was this some sort of prank? "What?"

"The…the phone calls. I kept getting them from Brad on my phone all day long. I was paranoid but I didn't want to bother you with it. As creepy as he became, your only solution would have been a shotgun and I'm not sure I can take that big of a leap into crazyland just yet…no offense."

"None taken," Bobby said quietly, looking at her strangely. She was completely convinced that he knew something that he actually had no idea about. This was Castiel's doing and he knew it. The angel had the balls to just drop her off and leave him in the dark with her. Idgit!

"I just…I'm sorry. Maybe if I had said something…I wouldn't have been taken."

Right now to say Bobby was curious would have been a gross understatement. It felt like he might choke on it but he could not bring himself to ask the right questions in order to get the answers he needed. The distant look in her eyes had become more drawn out. That combined with Castiel's look was enough for him to keep his mouth shut. He would work around this, if only for her sake, but when that damned angel came back, he was sure as hell going to get an earful from him.

"Don't blame yourself, kid," Bobby said, doing his best impersonation of sympathy, or was it real? "No one saw it coming."

"I guess not," Chelsea said with a sigh as she stood again, facing away from him. "Poor little Chelsea getting herself rescued again. What would she do without someone to help her?"

He didn't like where this was going. "What are you gettin' at, Chelsea?"

She turned to him, a look of determination suddenly set in her eyes. "I want you to teach me to hunt."

"What!" Bobby shouted, nearly jumping out of his chair.

"No, no, no! It's not…it's not that I want to be a hunter. I just…" she sighed again. "This life I'm leading, whatever the hell it is, it's dangerous. I can't be protected all the time by everyone. I need to know how to fend for myself or I'm going to end up being angel bait the rest of my life. I don't think we'll get so lucky a second time." If only he knew about the first time.

Bobby stared at her a long time, hoping to find some way to convince Chelsea to change her mind. However, she had put up a good argument, a damn good one. Who was he to deny her it? It was only putting her life in danger.

"What will Cas think about it?" Bobby asked. Chelsea smiled, taking his question as a yes.

"He'll have to deal with it." With that she exited the room and went back upstairs.

"Balls," Bobby said, leaning back in his chair, wondering how he got suckered into all of this. He then looked to the ceiling. "Alright, Cas, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either you get your feathery ass down here right now or I get the ingredients to summon you. Take your pick."

The sounds of wings could be heard moments later. Castiel stood in front of him, in the same spot Chelsea had been in just moments before. He looked slightly better from earlier but that was not saying much. "Hello Bobby."

"Don't hello, me, Cas," Bobby replied, getting out of his seat. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

Castiel turned away. "It's…complicated."

"Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious. That doesn't get you off the hook." He walked right in front of the angel and looked him dead in the eye, standing mere inches from him. "Tell me what happened to Chelsea."

Castiel sighed. "Fine."

Bobby listened intently to every word for the next twenty minutes. He did not want to say he was sickened by what had happened, that he knew what demons were capable of and that he had somehow grown immune to the images of their victims but that would be a load of bull. It only sickened him more and fueled his hatred toward the beings.

He also watched Castiel very closely as he told the story. Castiel had been angry before, he had seen it on more than one occasion, but what Bobby saw in his eyes as he spoke, it was something else. There was a hatred burning inside of him. Bobby knew the look well. He had seen the same thing in John Winchester's eyes when he spoke of Mary. When Sam did the same with Jessica. And Dean, well…Dean was a different case entirely. He had seen his fair share of this look, the one that drove people to obsession and insanity as they sought revenge.

Though Bobby felt for him, he had to keep a level head. Someone needed to be thinking straight or they would all get killed. "And you thought the best plan was to wipe her memory and plant her here?"

Castiel shook his head. "She…wanted me to. Neither Chelsea nor her brother and niece remember each other's existence. It was to keep them safe."

Bobby paused a moment as he thought over Chelsea's decision. Girl had guts, he had to give her that. "And you couldn't inform me of all this before because…"

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I was…distraught." Angel spoke the word like it was foreign to him. Bobby almost preferred it when Castiel did not have any of his emotions.

He nodded, stepping away from Castiel. "Alright, so you did all this, slapped a Band-aid on a broken arm. Now what are you gonna do?"

For the first time, Castiel truly looked confused, as though he had not thought that part out. Of course not. Bobby was not friends with anyone that thought things through. He was only acquainted with gun half cocked morons.

"She can't stay here, Cas. Not for long that is. Girl wants me to teach her how to hunt."

Castiel looked at him like he had killed one of his siblings. "That can't happen."

"Chelsea ain't exactly in the safest of positions here."

"I can protect her."

"Like you did from Thatch?" It was a low blow, but Bobby knew it needed to be said. Castiel did not reply. "Can you really blame her for wanting to defend herself? If you really wanted her to think she was safe, why didn't you wipe her memory of Thatch?"

The room was silent for a very long time. Bobby began to wonder if Castiel would answer at all or if he would just disappear again and leave him to piece together the explanation. He looked ready to answer a few times but would close his mouth again. Finally, Castiel looked him in the eyes, a pain in them he did not like to see.

"I want her to know…to remember what this life with me brings. Maybe then she would choose not to stay, to keep herself safe." When he finished, Castiel looked ashamed of himself and his shoulders sagged.

Bobby was quiet a moment. "That has to be the most idiotic piece of crap I ever heard." Damn couple were a regular Romeo and Juliet, pulling a bunch of stupid stunts until they got each other killed. "You're going to make her remember being tortured because you're too scared to break up with her?"

"I did not say that."

"Yeah, you did," Bobby replied with a nod. He then stalked off toward the kitchen, needing more alcohol. "Idjit."

* * *

><p>Castiel watched Chelsea as she stared out the window, the look on her face unreadable. Perhaps Bobby was right. He was a coward. He wanted Chelsea to be safe but within him could not find the strength to do what was necessary to make that a reality. Instead, he had chosen to let her make that decision. But she was strong, had taken every blow dealt to her, had chosen to forget her family and remain with him. He knew she had thought of other alternatives. She would never let him go. He would have to be the one to do so.<p>

But he could not either.

"Do you just like watching me when I don't know you're there?" Chelsea asked, turning to him with a small smile on her face.

Castiel tried to smile or even respond but found himself incapable of both. Instead, he walked forward and embraced her, noting how perfectly her body fit with his. He took in her scent and the feel on her arms on his back, all things he had once thought he would never experience again. It chilled him to his core.

"Will you stay?" she asked, her voice muffled by his coat. He nodded, knowing she could feel it.

"I will keep you safe, Chelsea, no matter what."

* * *

><p>And there is chapter six! Hope you enjoyed it. Bobby got more screen time! :D More familiar faces on the way! Thanks for reading!<p> 


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